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The Battle for Themyscira 1
For a glorious twenty years he ruled over his Amazon sisters preaching peace and love. He even opened the borders of Paradise Island to the rest of Man's world. The perfect utopia was available for all to enjoy, but now, Themyscira was under attack on the very shores that were once closed to the feet of man.
"Themyscira will not fall while I am King!" Tristan promised. While his powers were almost nonexistent he was still a deadly warrior who should not be trifled with.
He was surrounded by his Amazon council, they were his inner circle. These were not only the fiercest of the Amazons, but also thd smartest and most experienced in combat. His three daughters were among them, the Princesses of Themyscira.
"Then we shall fight!" Artemis declared. Artemis had become Tristan's personal Champion when he chose to give up his powers. She fought for him and was willing to die in his honor. She raised her sword into the air. Every Amazon in the room joined her. They were al
The Battle for Themyscira 2
Arrows rained down by the hundreds. It did not take long for Artemis to rally her Amazon sisters and take a full frontal assault against their attackers. By the hundreds, fully armored men stormed the shores of Themyscira. They wore battle armor similar to the Amazons and seemed to have the same kind of warrior's fire the Themysciran women had as well.
"Amazons!" Artemis shouted over the noise of rushing war. "Attack!" she commanded with her sword pointed towards the enemy. She pulled on the golden reins of the Pegasus and flew directly towards the heart of the enemy's swarm. With a great swipe of her blade Artemis took the heads of four of the male warriors clear off.
A wave of angry women followed her down her path with their swords raised. By the hundreds the Amazons stormed into battle. But this was not an epic battle like David versus Goliath. This was a war of the century! While one man would fall on the battle grounds, he took with him two Amazons.
These Warriors's training was
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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